Why Do I Feel So Heavy?

A reflection on collective grief, nervous system fatigue, and the quiet power of making space

Have you ever caught yourself thinking,
“I’m not grieving anyone… but something still feels lost,”
or
“I’m so tired, and I don’t even know why”?

In a world that rarely stops spinning, many of us are carrying more than we realize — and not just personally. This is what scholars and therapists call collective grief.

Collective grief isn’t just about death or mourning a loved one. It’s the heaviness we feel in response to what’s happening around us — the unraveling of systems, the suffering of others, the climate in crisis, or the quiet realization that the world we thought we were building… may not unfold the way we hoped.

This kind of grief is slippery. It doesn't always have a name or a tidy narrative. Sometimes, it feels like a lump in your throat you can’t explain, or a tiredness that sleep won’t touch. It may show up as anxiety, irritability, hopelessness, or emotional numbness. You’re not weak — you’re human in a hurting world.

According to sociologist Kai Erikson, collective trauma doesn’t just affect individuals — it disrupts the bonds of community and identity. And when our community suffers, we suffer too. Whether you’re impacted by injustice, war, ecological loss, or just the day-to-day noise of survival, your nervous system knows. Even if your calendar looks “normal,” your body may still be in alert or shut down — trying to protect you.

Psychologists like Judith Herman and Jonathan Shay remind us that unacknowledged grief — especially when tied to moral injury (like watching the world turn away from suffering) — can leave us feeling stuck between despair and numbness. We grieve not only what we’ve lost, but also what feels out of reach: safety, justice, certainty, or a sense of future.

But here's the quiet truth:

  • Naming what hurts is a form of healing.

  • Making space to feel is a form of resistance.

  • And doing it in community helps remind us we’re not alone.

✍️ A Question for You:

What are you grieving that doesn’t have a name yet?

🎨 A Space to Begin

If you’re carrying something invisible — grief, fatigue, or a quiet ache that doesn’t quite fit into a diagnosis — you’re warmly invited to join:

Holding What Hurts

An 8-week art therapy and journaling group for collective and personal grief

This group blends trauma-informed education, expressive art, and nervous system care to support those navigating overwhelm, loss, and world-weariness. Led by a Registered Psychotherapist and Art Therapist, with co-facilitation by Nicole Hagon (creative educator and neurodiversity advocate), this group is for anyone looking to feel, process, and create — even when words fall short.

No art experience needed. Insurance receipts available.

Held online

👉 Learn more or register now

You don’t have to carry it all alone.
There is power in pausing.
There is beauty in making space.

Price:

Early Bird - $250 for all 8 sessions, tax included

Regular Price - $300, tax included

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